Ugghh, finally, I wrote a new fic, sorta based off something I found. Sooo, I'd like some constructive crit, that good stuff always helps, and err…enjoy the story!
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"Here."
He took the mug from his hand with a reluctant smile, sipped cautiously at the hot drink, and then set it down on the table, waiting for it to cool. He drew his small hand over the mug to warm it with the steam rising out of it.
Soubi sat down across from him with a sigh, his own mug of tea in his hand, and he glanced out the window. A hard torrent of rain was flooding the streets, one that had attacked the two just before reaching Soubi's apartment. Ritsuka felt at his still wet hair, and reached for a discarded towel on the table, and rubbed a bit more at his black hair.
Soubi watched and asked, "Do you want some help with that?"
Ritsuka glanced sharply at the adult and replied, "No, it's fine." sliding the limp towel from his head and back onto the table. He took his mug, felt at it and satisfied, cautiously took a sip.
Soubi smiled, then stood up and asked, "Hey, if you don't mind, there's a painting that I want to finish. Is it all right if I do that now?"
"Sure, okay." Ritsuka replied, and he thought about how nice it was to finally be able to see Soubi in the process of creating yet another beautiful painting.
Soubi smiled yet again and walked over to the next room, keeping his gaze on Ritsuka until he vanished through the door doorway. Ritsuka shifted in his chair into a position from where he could watch the rain without turning his neck, and watched the rain splatter and distort his view of the opposing buildings while listening to the clattering and rummaging from the other room.
Finally, Soubi came back in, sliding a large unfinished painting of a butterfly with blotches of different shades of green and vague curves surrounding it across the wood floor, putting it down, and disappearing to yet another room from which he came back with four different brushes, a palette, and a couple of paint tubes in his hands and set them down next to the canvas. He paced over to the table, took his mug in his and and took a sip, faintly frowning at the taste at the now-lukewarm tea. He glanced across the table, noticing that the boy had been watching him.
He stared intently at the other's gaze but for once, Ritsuka did not look away, a blush, however, appearing on his pale face.
Soubi exhaled through his nose in a small chuckle, took another sip and sat down on the floor, placing the mug beside him, and tied up his long hair in a ponytail in preparation for his work.
Ritsuka continued watching as Soubi unscrewed the caps from the tubes and squeezed paint onto the palette. He mixed the colors with one of the brushes until the proper hues were attained and finally drew the brush across the canvas.
He built a map of curves and lines around the faint butterfly, painting something that looked like a white hollyhock underneath the butterfly's thin legs. His expression was serious and intent, but at once relaxed as he gave color to the large wings of the insect.
Ritsuka finally dared to ask, "Is this the ones that's going to be at the exhibit next week?"
Without looking up, Soubi answered, "Yeah, probably. This is turning out to be one of my better works."
"All of them are good." Ritsuka answered unwittingly, then grimacing at his failed attempts to remain aloof.
Soubi looked up. "You think?" He grinned and brought his mug to his lips with his free hand. Setting it back down, he swallowed and said "Sorry for finishing this right now, but I really need to, if you don't mind. It's due tomorrow."
"It's fine. It's fine." Ritsuka answered shrugging.
"I'll be done pretty soon anyway." He turned back to the canvas and defined the petals of the hollyhock with darker strokes of his thin brush. He set it down on a towel and picked up a thicker one, using it to add a darker color to the foliage surrounding the now-orange butterfly.
Ritsuka rested his head on his arm, observing Soubi. He had such a vulnerable face as he painted, and Ritsuka wondered whether Soubi was granting him a favor in some way by painting in front of him.
Soubi painted another layer of black over the butterfly's body, making it stand out amongst the delicate white petals on which its frail legs rested on. A pale shadow under the open orange wings was added. Soubi paused briefly with a quick sip from his mug and a short ponder and dusted a few specks of pollen into the flower's center.
The torrent outside had slowed to a gentler, rhythmic rain which seemed to slow Soubi's actions, gentler, more careful strokes placed here and there. In silence he continued, until a brief pause and three more strokes, Soubi announced, "I suppose I'm done for now."
Ritsuka looked at the final product, a very realistic monarch butterfly sitting on a stem of white hollyhocks and nodded. "It's really good."
Soubi smiled. "Thanks. I went for something less elaborate this time but I think that it turned out alright, don't you?"
"Yeah."
"I might work on it a little more later." Soubi took his mug and sipped. He grimaced. "This isn't any good." He turned to Ritsuka. "You want me to take your mug?"
Ritsuka pushed his mug across the table. "Thanks."
He took Ritsuka's mug and paced over to the next room, and Ritsuka heard the slosh of cold tea against kitchen sink. As Soubi walked back into the room, Ritsuka said, "You should get a microwave."
Soubi sat down across from him. "Hmm. Maybe."
He looked at Ritsuka strangely and reached his hand across the table. Ritsuka flinched away but the hand touched a white bandage on his left cheek, scratching at it with one finger.
"Is this a new wound?" Soubi asked quietly.
"Stop that." Ritsuka snapped, slapping Soubi's hand away and drew his gaze sharply towards the floor. He could feel Soubi's eyes on him.
Soubi glanced over to his alarm clock. "It's a bit late. You won't get in trouble once you get home?"
"I'll manage." Ritsuka growled, keeping his gaze to the floor.
"Right." Soubi scratched at his own bandages under his turtle neck. Then he asked. "Want me to show you something?"
Ritsuka looked up. "What?"
"Something I found yesterday. I thought it was kinda cool so I took it home." He stood up and walked over to the other room. Ritsuka watched him warily as Soubi came back, who was holding a small, spiked object between his fingers. As he drew closer, Ritsuka saw that it was a burr.
Soubi sat down. "Look." He put the burr on the table. Ritsuka looked closer and his eyes widened. A small butterfly, caught in mid-flight, lay frozen upon the burr's hooks.
Soubi smiled. "Interesting, isn't it? It's like a readymade." The frail legs of the butterfly were pointed back, giving it the appearance of flight. The burr's hooks jutted cruelly into its small, gray body. The gray wings were tattered and frayed, a few translucent spots on them where gray scales had been rubbed off.
Ritsuka frowned, oddly disturbed by the sight. He looked up at Soubi's face; His smile was strangely curved, almost in a cruel manner.
The adult blinked, noticing Ritsuka's discomfort, and the smile turned into a frown. "What's wrong?"
Ritsuka drew in a deep breath and murmured, "Nothing. Nothing…" He looked down avoiding Soubi's eyes and the butterfly. "It's...interesting." He muttered, his voice shaking a bit.
There was an awkward pause, and Ritsuka, uncomfortable with the sudden change in atmosphere, stood up and said, "I-I gotta go home."
Soubi's eyes turned inquiring and slightly hurt. "Why?"
"Well, um. Like you said. Can't be home too late." He fidgeted with his sleeve, suddenly desperate to just leave the room.
Soubi glanced out the window. "It's raining hard again though. Shouldn't you wait a bit?" Sure enough, the drizzle had turned back into the earlier torrent, blurred lights from the opposite buildings illuminating it in the evening dark.
Ritsuka drew in another deep breath. "Should get home now." He said in a rush and he walked from the table and into the next room. He reprimanded himself for being so agitated as he put his coat and shoes on, how nervous Soubi's attraction with the dead butterfly had made him.
He heard Soubi's footsteps come up behind him. "Are you sure that you don't want me to come—"
"I'm fine." Ritsuka interrupted loudly. There was an embarrassed pause and Ritsuka knelt down to tie his sneakers.
"Suit yourself." Soubi left the room. Ritsuka closed his eyes, aware of how ridiculous he was acting and how resigned and tired Soubi's voice sounded.
He finished tying his shoelace and shut the door behind him without saying good-bye. He sighed. He started to walk down the steps, some of the heavy rain hitting hard against the railing and flecking onto his face.
He thought back to the Soubi who had so tenderly painted that monarch, and then of the Soubi that had grinned at the sharp spikes catching on the butterfly's body. He didn't find it "cool", as Soubi had called it, just disturbing of how much the butterfly reminded him of the Soubi, and how bitterly triumphant Soubi seemed to be. Maybe he was just imagining things, yes, but he couldn't ignore that disturbing smile...it all confused him...
Ritsuka had gotten halfway down the steps when he was suddenly hit with the feeling that something was terribly wrong. He looked back up at Soubi's door, and his heartbeat quickened.
He quickly walked back up and panting a bit, he tried the doorknob and opened the unlocked door. "Soubi?" he whispered.
In response, he heard a strange scratching sound. He quietly took off his sneakers and tiptoed quietly into the next room.
He stopped in the doorway just as Soubi put his hands up on top of the painting he had just finished and slid down, ruining the carefully painted butterfly, green, white, and orange blurring into a bizarre and dirty color. He did it again and again in a slow, frightening, mechanical manner, his fingernails scratching against the rough canvas in each restrained but violent act, staining his arms with an ugly color. His blonde hair was out of its ponytail, and Ritsuka couldn't see his face.
Soubi paused in his work, and ran his hands through his hair and across his face, sliding down with the same manner he did with the ruined canvas , which was reduced to a mass of an ugly hue of brown, the faint outline of a butterfly still visible.
Soubi suddenly froze and looked up at Ristuka, his face smeared with paint. Ritsuka jerked back. Loose strands of hair fell around Soubi's face and eyes, giving him a childish appearance and his blank eyes seemed to look right through Ritsuka, not acknowledging his presence. The paint smears looked almost like wounds, like some kind of ugly alien blood.
They stared at each other for a few moments, and Soubi turned back to the canvas and continued to scratch at it, distorting the paint into an even uglier color.
Ritsuka stood still, confused and frightened. He thought about running out, but deciding that it would be unfair to do that, he started to slowly walk up to the adult.
He carefully approached him, as if he was approaching a wild animal, until he stood next to him, looking down upon his bowed head.
Soubi suddenly froze, and after a moment, seized Ritsuka by the waist and pulled him down.
Ritsuka yelped and tried to push himself away from the man, but to no avail, and in a blur of black and ugly piant smears, he was pulled into Soubi's chest.
Soubi's fingers entwined into Ritsuka's black hair, lacing paint into the dark strands, and his other hand slid down Ritsuka's coat, leaving behind streaks of the brownish color.
Then both hands slid to Ritsuka's face, smearing paint in the same places Soubi's was smeared, and across his eyelids, keeping his head down to his chest.
Ritsuka gave a muffled yell and freeing his arms, growled, "Soubi—don't—be—stupid!"
He grabbed Soubi's wrists and pushed his hands apart, looking up into Soubi's blank eyes. They looked at each other, each stained with alien blood and Ritsuka let go of Soubi's wrists.
"You—you're covered with paint." Ritsuka sputtered, for lack of something better to say.
Soubi's arms then curved around the small of Ritsuka's back, gently, and he looked into frightened, violet eyes. He tried for a small smile but that only looked grotesque amidst the smears of paint. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it, biting his lip.
Then he pulled the boy closer to his chest, carefully, sighing over Ritsuka's shoulder.
Ritsuka glanced at the table through Soubi's arms. The dead butterfly was still there, forever flying upon the burr's sticky hooks. Then he closed his eyes and let himself into the embrace, surrounded with warmth, the sound of rain, and the smell of paint.
The two stayed like that for quite a while, the black compound eyes of the dead butterfly watching.
***
Ugh. I keep thinking that evreything is so short in my stories, but I'm also scared of rambling so...I don't know. But please say what you thought and leave some crit please! And I really did find a moth attached to a burr, it was really weird.
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